


100 Ways To Do It Right

by thedemonkingawakes



Series: 100 Words, 100 Ways [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 100 Drabble Challenge, Clintasha - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 66
Words: 8,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2058879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedemonkingawakes/pseuds/thedemonkingawakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100 Clintasha drabbles. (Supposedly) 100 words each, they take place at various point in Clint and Natasha's lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of 100 Clintasha drabbles, taking place at various points in their lives (from their first meeting through several years after the destruction of Shield.)  
> I'm going to try to post one every day, but between volleyball and school (which starts in just a few weeks) I might not be able to always manage that. The story should come out to about 10,000 words (100 hundred word drabbles) , but I have a bit of an issue writing short things, so it will probably end up longer. For some of the drabbles I had to cut sections off so they would be close-ish to 100 words. For the ones I made major edits on, I'll be posting uncut versions as separate stories. 
> 
> Now that my long authors note is done, enjoy!

An arrow pricked her throat. A trickle of blood traced a thin red line down her neck.

A soft twang as he released the arrow, a sharp burst of pain, and then nothingness. Death, oblivion, an eternal sleep. That's what should have happened.

Instead, he had looked at her, meeting her eyes with a searching look. He must have seen something, because he pulled her to her feet and introduced himself.

He had taken her back to Shield with him. After a lot of arguing on his part she'd been trained as an asset, an agent. An agent of Shield.


	2. Middles

Russia. That was where they'd become lovers. Their mission had gone south and they'd ended up in a freezing hotel room. Pressed together under the covers of the single twin bed, they'd both said things that couldn't be taken back.

It wasn't until she'd woken up from a nightmare screaming that he had done something. He'd wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and laid them both back down, his arms wrapped around her. She had glanced up into his stormy eyes and then he had kissed her.

It had been beautiful, a moment of bliss against the frozen darkness of their mission.


	3. Ends

When Shield had fallen, it had felt like the end of the world. Shield had been a refuge. Without it she was just another lonely orphan. They all were.

Everything had been revealed, and while she knew it was necessary, it was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do.

It wasn't until several months later, when she was finally reunited with him and she was able to stand there, safe and secure inside the circle of his strong arms, that she'd let herself cry. "Hey Tasha, shh… It's going to be okay. I promise. This isn't the end."


	4. Insides

Natasha's favorite place was inside, curled up in the corner of the library with a good book and a cup of mint tea. Clint joined her sometimes, not because he enjoyed it but because she did. He would sit there with a coffee - sometimes next to her and sometimes somewhere else - always keeping her in his sights. He claimed she was beautiful there, lost in thought, with the setting sun turning her hair into a fiery halo. She caught a glimpse of his face sometimes, when he thought she wasn't looking. He looked…awed, entranced in something Natasha couldn't see.


	5. Outsides

Clint loved hanging out outside, among the trees or by the ocean. For him, there was nothing better than being high in the sky with the wind blowing through his hair. Natasha didn’t mind it either; the adrenaline rush that came from cliff-diving or hanging out high in the sky was exhilarating. Clint seemed at ease there. A small smile, one Natasha found adorable, graced Clint’s face whenever they were hanging out outdoors. The storm clouds in his blue-grey eyes cleared, lightning them to a clear pale blue. She loved seeing him happy and carefree, at home in the sky.

 


	6. Hours

Clint could feel himself drifting off. He blinked hard, trying to wake himself up. He couldn’t fall asleep, not until he knew Natasha would be okay.

His head slipped down to rest on the hospital bed next to Natasha’s hand. It was uncomfortable, but Clint was already in asleep and didn’t notice. Natasha shifted slightly, waking Clint up. He raised his head blearily and met Natasha’s eyes.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Natasha asked quietly.

“Hours. I lost track somewhere around eight.”

“Come on.” Natasha patted the bed next to her.

Carefully, Clint lay down next to her and fell asleep instantly.

 


	7. Days

Clint’s first glimpse of the infamous Black Widow had been at a little cafe in Italy. It wasn’t until two days later that he learned who she was. His mission was simple; take out the Black Widow. Clint had read her file - what little there was - and agreed that the person from the file needed to be eliminated. He couldn’t quite reconcile the person he had seen in Italy with the person in the file. She hadn’t seemed like a ruthless killer, she’d seemed like a lost girl trying to survive.

A week later, when he found himself face to face with her, he didn’t kill her. Instead he offered her a hand up and brought her in to Shield.


	8. Weeks

Clint hadn’t seen Natasha in weeks. Loki’s comments about him and Natasha had gotten under the skin of the Council. They had forced Director Fury to split Clint and Natasha up until it could be determined whether or not they were compromised.

He had started several letters to her on blank sheets of paper. All of them had ended up crossed out so many times that he had crumpled them all up and thrown them in the trash. He wished he knew where she was so he could get a message to her. He had something he wanted to tell her...

 

 


	9. Months

Clint heard a faint jingling coming from Natasha’s room in the tower as he walked towards the elevator. Peering through the door, he found Natasha sitting on the floor, stringing beads onto several wide ribbons.

She looked up, surprised to see Clint standing there.

“Hey, Tasha. I didn’t know you did beadwork.”

“I don’t. Not really.”

“Then what’s with the beads?”

“I’ve been collecting them since I joined Shield. One from every mission.”

“How long have you been working on the curtain?”

“Months. Pretty much since we moved into the tower.”

Clint smiled. “Do you want some help?”

“I’d love some.”

 

 


	10. Years

Natasha glanced at her calendar for the fifth time that morning, staring at the date circled in bright blue pen. It had been six years since she and Clint had first started dating, if you could call their relationship that. It was unconventional, their relationship, but it worked. She loved him, and she could tell he loved her.

Fate seemed to be working against Natasha. Clint had been sent on a mission the day before, one with no definite end date. It seemed unlikely that he would be home before their anniversary. There was something she had wanted to say to him, and their anniversary seemed like the perfect time to do it.

 

 


	11. Red

Red. The color of blood.

Clint couldn’t stop seeing blood, scarlet against his pale skin, covering his hands, dripping from his fingertips. The shrinks had all told him the same thing; it wasn't his fault, he couldn't be held responsible for what he had done under Loki's control. They didn't understand, he remembered everything he had done. No one understood. Natasha was the only one who came close, but even she didn't understand completely. Coulson's blood, the blood of every agent who had died during Loki's attack, was on his hands. And no matter how much he scrubbed, it didn’t go away.

 

 


	12. Orange

Orange. The color of Clint’s bedroom within the Avengers Tower.

Natasha loved Clint’s room. It was a pale orange, the color of the sunset, and filled with little trinkets from all over the world. They sent most of their time in his room, rather than hers, since she loved it so much. She would spend hours there when he was away on a mission, breathing in his scent and enjoying the view from his big bay windows. It didn’t fit with what most people thought of her, being so sentimental, but Clint was an exception to every rule she had.

 

 


	13. Yellow

Yellow. The color of the sun.

Clint loved the sun. The feel of its warmth on his skin, the way it lit up the world. Sitting in the sun with Natasha was one of his favorite things in the world. The sun turned Natasha’s red hair into a wreath of flames, matching her personality. It was relaxing, a chance of pace from their busy schedules at Shield.

The roof of the Avengers Tower wasn’t as nice as their safe house in Cape Verde, but with a few flowers, it was good enough for him. It was home to him and Natasha.

 


	14. Green

Green. The color of Natasha’s eyes.

Eyes were one of the most telling features about a person. Clint loved Natasha’s eyes. Their emerald green color contrasted nicely with her red hair and pale skin. It was the one place she couldn’t completely hide herself from him. They lit up when she was happy or excited, and darkened to a forest green color when she was angry or upset.

Whenever she had to change her eye color for a mission, Clint missed seeing their lovely green color. She looked good enough with brown eyes, or ice blue ones, but none compared to her natural ones.

 

 


	15. Blue

Blue. The color of the tesseract.

Before New York, before Loki, Natasha had loved the color blue. It was the color of the sky, the color of the sea, the color of so many beautiful things.

After New York, she could hardly stand to look at bright blue things. It reminded her too much of Clint’s eyes while he was under Loki’s control. She tried to keep the memories locked away, but sometimes they overwhelmed her until she could barely breathe. When that happened, she would curl up with Clint, taking comfort in his presence and reassuring herself that his eyes were still their usual stormy grey.

 

 


	16. Purple

Purple. The color of Clint’s uniform.

In Natasha’s mind, purple was Clint’s color. It was the color of the arrow on his uniform the day he’d made a different call and saved her life. It was the color of his favorite Gatorade, and the color of the sunsets he enjoyed so much.

She had a pair of dewdrop earrings in a lovely violet color, a gift from Clint for their first undercover mission together. He’d said they were just for the mission, something he had gotten to complement her dress. She had figured out later, after they had become friends, that the earrings had been a peace offering, a gesture of friendship.

 

 


	17. Brown

Brown. The color of Natasha’s knives.

Lots of agents used knives with fancy handles - when they used knives at all. Clint had seen them, ones with brass studs or intricate designs carved into the hilt. The knives work well enough, he supposed, but they were flashy and harder to conceal.

Natasha used knives with plain, leather wrapped handles. They were simple, elegant, strong. Her knives were an extension of her arm, graceful and deadly. Clint loved watching her use them; she seemed… free and alive. It was a deadly dance of turns and thrusts, one no one else could match.

 

 


	18. Black

Black. The color of darkness.

Many people say that black is the color of nothingness, the absence of color. It isn’t though. Black is the silence of an empty house, the velvety darkness that envelopes the world at night. Black is the color of secrets and the color of death.

Black is a strong color, bold and concealing. It’s the color of words, strong and contrasting against the snowy white paper.

Black is a color that both Clint and Natasha can relate to. They are spies and assassins; keepers of secrets and bringers of death. They slip silently through the dark night, unnoticed by all.

 

 


	19. White

White. The color of purity.

White was a pure color, and an innocent one. Natasha thought it was beautiful. Beautiful, but not a color for her. She was not pure, she was not innocent. She was deadly, with a ledger that dripped with crimson blood. She didn’t belong in white; she belonged in the shadows, in grays and blacks.

Clint looked good in white. Natasha knew he wasn’t innocent, but he seemed pure and good, especially sitting there in the sun letting its heat soak into his plain white t-shirt. It was one of those things Natasha loved about Clint, the way he was so good without even realizing it.

 


	20. Colourless

Acid. Clear, colourless, deadly. It worked well to eat away the locks on doors and windows or to weaken supports. It could eat away metal in seconds, destroy a hard drive in not much more. Acid wasn’t Clint’s weapon, it was Natasha’s. Sure, Clint had a few arrows in his quiver that were filled with acid, but Natasha was the one who used it easily. Her work had always been the quiet, untraceable poisons and acids, hidden in plain sight. Clint admired the way Natasha was fearless while she worked, never faltering, never shaking. It was something he could never do.

 

 


	21. Friends

Clint spun, sweeping his legs under Natasha’s feet, trying to catch her unaware. She cartwheeled over his leg and snapped a roundhouse kick at his chest. He jumped back, out of her reach. Natasha got a running start and did a backflip over his head; scissoring her legs around his chest and making him fall over.

Natasha scrambled off him quickly. Offering him a hand up, which he accepted, she pulled him to his feet.

"You beat me. Again."

"Face it Barton, I'm just better than you."

"I'll never admit it."

"So you want me to kick your ass again?"

"I think it's my turn to win."

"You can try…"

 

 


	22. Enemies

Clint drew the arrow back, aiming it directly at her heart. He knew he should let the arrow fly and complete his mission, but something made him hesitate. Haltingly, he raised his head to meet her eyes, afraid of what he would see there. He looked long and hard, searching her eyes to try and find some clue as to who she really was. What he saw in her eyes shocked him. They weren’t the eyes of a cold blooded killer; they were hard and almost emotionless, but Clint could see fear, nearly hidden behind her emotionless mask.

“I’m Clint.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I go back to school tomorrow, so I'm probably not always going to be able to update this fic every day. I'll do my best to post at least a few chapters a week though.
> 
> If I don't post any for a while, feel free to message me and let me know. Chances are I just got really busy and forgot.


	23. Lovers

Natasha pushed open the door to her New York apartment. She wasn't sure what alerted her to the presence of another person, it was just a sixth sense.

"Who's there?"

Clint stepped into the light. "Hey Tash."

"Clint…" The silence was heavy with everything Natasha didn't say.

Clint stepped forward and draped a necklace around her neck. Natasha could see the tiny silver arrow on the thin chain in the mirror. Clint wrapped his arms around her and hugged her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I hope you like it."

Natasha leaned up and kissed him in response. “It’s perfect.”

 

 


	24. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to post this. I started school last week and I've been rather swamped. I'll do my best to get back on schedule in the next couple weeks.

It was raining. The very sky seemed to be mourning the loss of Phil Coulson. Clint and Natasha stepped out of the limo, dressed all in black, and took their seats in the front row of chairs.

Clint and Natasha both got up and gave speeches.  When Clint got back to his seat he was crying, tears running down his face and mingling with the rain. Natasha took one look at his face and wrapped him in a hug, for once not caring about appearances. He rested his head on her shoulder, unable to stop the tears.

"How am I supposed to survive this Tasha? He was my handler, my friend…he was the closest thing to a father that I ever had."

"Shhh…We've still got each other. We're family, Clint, and we'll get through this." Natasha couldn't stop a few tears from silently rolling down her own face.

 

 


	25. Strangers

"Natalie Rushman."

"Ian Summers." Clint kissed Natasha's hand. "Can I buy you a coffee?"

"As a romantic gesture?"

"As an 'I'd like to get to know you' gesture. You intrigue me, Miss Rushman. I've seen you here several times now. You’re not like the other people here."

“Neither are you?”

“Let’s discuss our uniqueness over coffee then.”

"I prefer tea."

"What flavor?"

"Mint or chamomile with honey."

Clint went up to the counter and ordered them both drinks. When he returned, he set the drinks down and sat in the chair across from Natasha.

"So, Miss Rushman, what brings you to town?"

 

 


	26. Teammates

"I'm watching your six." Clint said, nocking an arrow.

Natasha nodded casing the building. "How do you want to do this? The building isn't great for attacking."

"The building isn't great for a ground attack." Clint corrected. "Look up. There's a vent up there, about five feet over the door.  We should be able to get in without a problem. I looked at the building plans. The vent should let us out in the attic. Sound good?"

"It's our best chance."

"Cool." Clint stuck the arrow back in his quiver.

"What do you say we go raise a little hell?"

 

 


	27. Parents

“I’d like you to meet my parents.” He gestured to a pair of headstones. Briefly letting go of Natasha's hand, Clint stepped toward and lay a small bouquet of flowers on his mother's grave. 

"Clint, you didn't have to do this. I should go, it's not my place to be here."

"Hey, hey wait." Clint grabbed Natasha's hand. "You do belong here. I love you Natasha, and I want to share this with you." Natasha froze, too shocked to move. Slowly, she recovered and stood next to Clint. They stood there in silence until Natasha asked, "Do you…do you think they would have liked me?"

Clint wrapped an arm around Natasha's shoulders and sighed. "I don't know Tasha. I don't remember them. I like to think so though."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting a longer version of this chapter under the name 'Something Old, Something New'.


	28. Children

Natasha dashed out of hiding, grabbed a fresh water gun, and ducked down beside the porch. Clint's head popped up behind a log, quickly followed by a water balloon launched at Natasha. She dodged to the side, not quite fast enough to avoid getting splashed, and sent a spray of water at Clint's head.

They both laughed as the water hit him square in the face.

"This is nice." Natasha said.

"Yeah. I wouldn't want to do it all the time though; it'd get boring." Clint threw another water balloon at Natasha - this one hitting her in the shoulder - and ducked back down behind his log.

"Game on!"

 

 


	29. Birth

Clint and Natasha stood side by side at the steps of the newly restored Triskelion. The rest of the Avengers were in the crowd too, awaiting the opening of the new Shield. Natasha reached down and laced her fingers through Clint’s. Director Coulson walked forward to stand at the top of the steps, his team fanning out on either side of him.

“It’s strange, not being up there with him.” Clint said.

Natasha nodded as Coulson began speaking.

“Three years ago, several of our agents discovered that Hydra had been growing inside Shield. At great risk, these agents took down Hydra; and with it Shield. Nick Fury tasked me with rebuilding it. Today, we are here to officially reopen Shield. Missions will be handed out starting tomorrow. We still have a long way to go until we’re back to full strength, but it’s a start.”


	30. Death

“Go home, Agent Romanoff. There’s nothing you can do for your partner tonight.”

“Do they know if he’s going to be okay yet?”

“He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s doing better.”

“I’m going to stay here.”

The nurse sighed. “The couch over there is a bit more comfortable to sleep on. Blankets are in the closet down the hall along with a first aid kit. Go take care of your own injuries and then get some sleep.”

Natasha stood up, moving on autopilot. As she grabbed the first aid kit and began cleaning and bandaging her cuts, only one thought was running through her head.

_Don’t you dare die on me Barton. I love you._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting a longer version of this under the name 'Everything I Didn't Say'


	31. Sunrise

“Well comrade, are you ready for your performance?” Clint asked.

“Our performance. And don’t call me comrade.” Natasha walked out onto the roof and sat on the edge, dangling her feet over the ledge.

Clint followed her onto the roof. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Natasha gazed out over the city, watching the sunrise. “I’ve been dancing ballet since I was six years old. Of course I’m ready.”

Clint smirked. “I’ve never seen you dance ballet.”

Natasha smiled and snuggled up against Clint. “I haven’t danced in a while. I love it, but I don’t have very many opportunities to at Shield.”

Clint wrapped his arm around Natasha’s shoulders. As the sky faded from red to gold and then to blue, he smiled. “I’m sure we can find somewhere for you to dance, if you like.”

“I would.”

 

 


	32. Sunset

Natasha walked onto the roof and found herself looking at a scene out of a romance movie. A picnic blanket was spread across the roof and candles were scattered around the edges. Clint was sitting in the middle of the blanket.

"You're such a romantic at heart." Natasha said, coming over and sitting down next to Clint.

He shrugged. "I never denied it."

Natasha looked around the roof. The lit candles looked like twinkling fireflies against the setting sun. "This is beautiful, Clint." She smiled. "And a romantic is just not a trait people normally associate with assassins."

"I'm not most assassins. Anyway, I have champagne."

 

 


	33. Too Much

Too much. There was too much blood. It covered Clint's hands and soaked into the ground beneath Natasha.

Clint was the first one to respond to Natasha's distress call. She was unconscious when he got there, blood gushing from the gunshot wound in her stomach and pooling in the dirt around her. She had lost too much blood and Clint did the only thing he could think of; he started a transfusion, using his own blood. Careful not to pull out the needle, he wound a bandage around Natasha's torso to try and stop the bleeding.

By the time the med team arrived, Clint was sitting on the ground, cradling Natasha's head in his lap and watching as his blood flowed into his partner, keeping her alive. They swarmed around the two of them, unhooking Clint's makeshift transfusion equipment and lifting Natasha onto a stretcher.

"Save her."

The last thing Clint remembered before everything went black was watching the helicopter carrying Natasha take off.


	34. Not Enough

****

"Clint, the recipe calls for three cups of flour."

"And I put three in." Clint replied.

"No you didn't. You measured out three, but only two made it into the bowl. The other one ended up in your hair."

Clint smirked. "I was using a new method of adding flour."

"You just wanted to put in more sugar, Mr. Sweet Tooth."

Clint leaned over and smeared flour across Natasha's cheek. She laughed and hit the teaspoon measurer, accidentally splashing vanilla into Clint's floury hair.

"Oh, it is on."

Natasha leaned over and kissed Clint's sugary lips playfully. "Let me put the cookies in the oven first."

****


	35. Sixth Sense

"Hey Clint." Natasha said as she walked into her apartment.

"How do you always do that?" Clint asked, jumping down from the rafters and landing gracefully on his feet.

"It's a sixth sense. Well, that and you always displace something." She brushed a kiss across his cheek.

Clint flopped down on the couch, his feet dangling over the arm. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"I'm on an assignment, as you well know."

"Come on. You don't leave until tomorrow and I know you can memorize the file on the plane ride."

"Sorry Clint, I'm leaving in two hours. We'll have a movie night when I get back."

"Alright. Now sit, I'm doing your makeup."

 

 


	36. Smell

Natasha was woken by a delicious scent wafting through her floor of the Avengers Tower. She climbed out of bed, sliding her feet into a worn pair of slippers, and padded out into the kitchen.

"What is that delicious smell?"

"Coffee and cookies." Clint replied, handing Natasha a large coffee mug. "Since most of our last batch ended up all over us, and what little we salvaged went to Pepper for that event, I decided to make another batch." He looked sheepish as he slid a cookie over to Natasha on a plain paper napkin. "I haven't tried them yet, so I hope they're good."

Natasha took a bite of her cookie and smiled. "These are really good. From now on, you're making the cookies."

Clint chuckled. "I'm glad you like them." He took a bite of his own cookie. "Yeah, these are good."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is kind of hectic right now, so until further notice, this story will be updating on Fridays only.


	37. Hearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything in Italics in sign language.

Natasha was waiting for Clint when he slipped quietly into his rooms within Shield.

“What did they say?”

Clint walked over and sat down next to Natasha, defeated. “I’m eighty-nine percent deaf, according to the doctors. They said it was probably the explosion that caused it.”

Natasha wrapped her arms around Clint and pulled him into the hug. They sat there in silence for several minutes. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

Clint pulled back, shocked. “What are you talking about Tasha? An explosion caused this, not you.”

“It’s my fault you were there in the first place.”

_Nat, there are plenty of people I could blame for this. You’re not one of them. None of this is your fault._ Clint signed.

Natasha sighed and rested her head on Clint’s shoulder. _Are you going to be okay?_

Clint shrugged. _Eventually. I can still shoot, and once I get hearing aids I should be able to hear pretty well._

_I lo-_

_Stop._ Clint signed. _I want the first time you say it to be because you’re ready to say it, not because you feel guilty._

Natasha smiled softly and cuddled up next to Clint. _Okay._


	38. Touch

Natasha’s curly red hair fell against Clint’s face as he kissed her. Her hair was soft and warm, heated by the sun on the Cape Verde beach, and smelled faintly of mint. He broke off kissing her for a moment to tuck her silky locks back behind her ear.

“Why don’t we do this more often?” Clint asked.

Natasha smirked. “Because we work for Shield.” She stretched up and kissed him, her bare feet sinking into the warm sand.

Clint kissed her back, the cold ocean water swirling around his heels. Natasha laughed softly against Clint’s lips as the water hit her toes. She jumped lithly into Clint’s arms to avoid it. He kissed her again before making his way onto drier land.

 

 


	39. Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update on time (or last week). I was traveling yesterday, so I wasn't able to post this until now.

“When you said you would handle dinner, I thought you meant you would go get something edible, not cook some disgusting crap.” Natasha said.

“You haven’t tried my cooking yet.” Clint replied.

“Come on Barton. Every guy says they can cook something well, even though they rarely can.”

Clint held up a finger to shush her. “Try this.”

He held up a spoonful of mac and cheese. Tentatively, Natasha accepted it. A delicious blend of creamy cheeses and soft noodles hit her taste buds, making the corner of her mouth quirk up involuntarily.

“Okay, I’ll admit you make a pretty good mac and cheese. The real question is; is that all you can make?”

Clint smirked. “Nope. I can make all sorts of good stuff. Just wait til you try my soup.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll go ahead and say this now - although I'll make sure to say it again later: All my stories will be on hiatus for the month of November. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo this year (first time!) and I won't have time to update anything.


	40. Sight

“It’s a beautiful view.” Natasha commented, lying on her back on the roof of their safehouse in Cape Verde.

Dark purple clouds, tinged with pink, were scattered across the old paper sky. The sun hung low; a fiery orange ball, bright against the pale sky.

Clint watched the shadows dance across the sun dappled leaves of the palm tree. “Yeah.”

He laced his fingers through Natasha’s. As they lay there, the clouds thickened until they almost covered the entire sky. The last rays of sun shone through the clouds, lighting up the distant mountains.

The first drops of rain fell, hitting Natasha’s face and hair. Within seconds, it was pouring, soaking the roof and Clint and Natasha.

Natasha laughed, the rain warm against her skin. Clint rolled over and kissed her softly in the gathering darkness.

 


	41. Shapes

Slowly, Clint opened his eyes. The first thing that registered was that all he could see was blurry shapes and colors. The second was that he couldn’t hear anything. He began to panic and tried weakly to sit up. Small but firm hands pushed him back down. Flattening his palm, they signed: _Clint, it’s Natasha. Calm down. You’re okay._

_I can’t hear anything and everything is blurry._ Clint signed back, still somewhat panicky.

_You’re okay, just calm down. Your hearing aids are on the table next to the bed. One of the doctors took them out so they could examine you._

Finally calm enough to think rationally, Clint signed: _Where am I?_

_You’re in the Shield infirmary with a nasty concussion. That’s why your vision is screwed up. The doctors said it should clear up in a few days._ Natasha signed into Clint’s palm. Seeing his eyes start to droop, Natasha leaned forward and kissed his forehead. _Get some rest._

Knowing Clint couldn’t see her, Natasha signed three simple words in the air before she left.

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this posted right. I'm posting it from my phone and it doesn't always paste right on mobile.


	42. Triangle

“Just take my hand. I’ll teach you.” Natasha said, extending her hand to Clint.

Reluctantly, Clint took her hand. “Do we have to do this?”

“It’s easy. Look, our bodies form a triangle for the first part.” She adjusted them so they were standing correctly. “Now, we take a few steps this way. Then a few steps the other way. Back the other way. And this is where you spin me.” Natasha called out the moves as they went. “We repeat that, except this time, you twirl me in and then dip me.”

“Come on Nat, can’t you dance and I’ll be your manager or something.”

“It’s a partner’s dance contest, Clint.”

Clint groaned as Natasha started the music. “I hate the tango.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is officially on hiatus until Friday, December 5th. I am participating in NaNoWriMo for the first time, and that will be taking up all the time I have to write. I'll see you all in December. 
> 
> ~Thedemonkingawakes
> 
> And to those of you who are participating in NaNoWriMo, happy writing!


	43. Square

The moment Clint walked into the Tower carrying a battered cardboard box, Natasha sensed trouble. He set the box down on the floor and smiled innocently.

“Hey Tasha.”

“What’s in the box Barton?”

Sheepishly, Clint reached into the box and lifted out a small puppy. The puppy was white, with a golden back and head. It whimpered as Clint picked it up, before snuggling into the crook of his arm, sound asleep.

“I found her by the side of the road and couldn’t just leave her there.”

Natasha struggled to maintain a stern face for a moment before she gave up and laughed. “You look so pitiful with your puppy dog eyes.”

“Can we keep her?”

“I wouldn’t turn away an innocent puppy. Give me the dog and go ask Steve for some food and a bed.”

“What?”

“For the dog, idiot.”

Clint smirked. “I knew that.” He ruffled the puppy’s head and left, calling over his shoulder, “Bye Goldie.”

Petting the dog in her arms, Natasha muttered, “We’re not calling you Goldie.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. I think I said I would be back last week, but life was crazy and I've had a lot of tests to study for. I'm back now, however, and I should be getting back to my regular Friday update schedule. It might be a little bit crazy around the holidays, but other than that I'm going to try and be good about updating regularly.
> 
> Sidenote: Golden retriever/husky mixes are so cute. Especially as puppies.


	44. Circle

Clint looked up as Natasha landed on the roof next to him, her parachute fanning out behind her. Her fancy dress was ripped and torn, revealing the gun strapped to her thigh. A bullet had grazed her shoulder and she was bleeding sluggishly from the cut. Somehow, even through all the chaos, her circlet had stayed on her head, glimmering blue in the fading light.

“What the hell happened?” Clint asked, hurriedly slinging his bow and quiver over his shoulder.

“Our intel was bad and the mission went to hell.” Natasha replied, pulling her gun from its holster. “Now run.”

 

 


	45. Moon

Natasha passed Clint a root beer. Taking a sip of her wine, she rested her arms on the railing, looking out over Paris. She could see the moon reflected on the Seine, its cold, hard light washing the city in a pale glow.

“What are you thinking about?” Clint walked over and stood next to her.

It took Natasha a long time to answer. “If I had the choice, if I’d never been recruited to the Red Room, I would have liked to travel. See the world, meet new people, learn new languages. Traveling from place to place, with nothing tying me down and nothing to make me stay. To see the beauty of the world without seeing the bad… It would be magical.”

Clint wrapped his jacket around Natasha’s shoulders. “Anytime you want to go, I’ll go with you.”

 

 


	46. Star

Clint paddled the little boat out into the middle of the lake. He set the paddle aside, letting the boat drift. Unrolling the quilt he had brought, he spread it over the seats and lay back. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his phone and held it up to the sky. Hitting record on the video, Clint looked around for a long moment before he spoke.

“Hey Tasha. I don’t know when you’ll get this - or even where you are. Wherever you are at the moment, I hope you’ll look up at the moon and know I’m staring at it too.” A shooting star shot across the sky, a bright streak against the darkness. “Make a wish Tasha.”

 

 


	47. Heart

Heart

**1.** a hollow muscular organ that pumps the blood through the circulatory system by rhythmic contraction and dilation.

**2.** the central or innermost part of something.

~*~*~

“And…” Natasha drawled boredly.

“And you could let that icy one of yours thaw just a bit. You know, we are supposed to be partners right? That means we have to actually work together.”

“I work better alone.”

“I don’t care. We’re going to have to make this work somehow, so start by actually acting civil and not being a mystery wrapped in an enigma.”

Natasha stalked away, slamming the door shut behind her.

 

 


	48. Diamond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been very good about updating lately, so sorry about that. I'm going to try to get back to a regular update schedule soon.

Natasha sat down next to Clint at the foot of his bed and put an arm around his shoulders. He rested his head on her shoulder. Neither of them said anything for several minutes. Eventually, Clint spoke.

“Everything is falling and shattering and I can’t help but think that when I hit, I’m going to shatter too.”

“You won’t, I promise.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Adámas.” She tilted her head to the side and looked at Clint. “It means unbreakable in ancient Greek.”

“And…” Clint replied, not seeing the connection

“The word diamond comes from _adámas_. Diamonds look fragile, like they would shatter like glass if you were to drop them, but they are nearly unbreakable. As long as you have people that care about you, people who’ll have your back no matter what, you'll be unbreakable too."

 


	49. Club

Clint backed up until he was standing back to back with Natasha. On the edge of his vision, he could see the ends of a long silver thing.

"Where'd you get the club?"

"It's a quarterstaff, not a club, and it's the bar from one of the salmon ladders on the training room. I ran out of ammo, so I had to improvise."

Clint spun on his heel and shot an arrow at one of the men assailing Natasha.

"Do you know what happened to Coulson or Fury?" He asked, turning back to face his own attackers.

"Hill took a bullet to the shoulder early on. Last I saw, Fury was trying to get her and a few other wounded agents out with as much information as he could give them. Coulson and Agent May were fighting together to protect the weapons room.”

“I saw Agents Morse and Carter escorting the kids from The Academy to the lower floors so they’d be away from the main fight.” Clint felt like face palming as a realization struck him. “Of course. That’s how they got in.”

“What?” Natasha replied as they switched sides.

“These people, whoever they are, attacked today because we had the kids from The Academy taking a tour. No matter how hard we try, we’re always less secure when we have visitors coming. Whoever this is, they knew our security would be screwed up today.”

“Great. Now how about we try not to die.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Agent Carter I refer to is Sharon Carter, in case that wasn't clear.


	50. Spade

Natasha finished digging a shallow hole in the sandy dirt of Cape Verde. She tossed her small shovel aside and pulled the broken arrow from her back pocket. With tears streaming down her face, she tossed both halves of the arrow into the hole and scooped the dirt back into it until it was nearly invisible. She cut a single rose from one of the bushes that edged the back deck and lay it down gently on the sandy earth, right over the broken arrow. She stood there for several minutes, her tears dripping onto the warm sand.

“I’m sorry.”

 

 


	51. Water

Clint turned to face Natasha, standing on the edge of the cliff.

“Ready?”

Natasha nodded. Getting up a running start, she sprang into the air, launching herself off Clint’s hands. She flipped once before shooting down towards the water, straight as an arrow.

Clint took a step back and jumped, swinging around on a rope before cannon balling into the clear blue waters below. He sunk down into the deep pool, his eyes open, watching little bubbles of air escape his mouth and float slowly to the surface. After a few moments, Clint straightened, using his powerful arms and legs to propel him back to the surface. He surfaced just as Natasha was climbing out. Clint grabbed her ankle, pulling her back into the water, laughing.

 

 


	52. Fire

Clint and Natasha stood side by side, watching the flames climb higher, erasing them from existence. The pile of passports and IDs burned brightly against the inky darkness. Natasha slipped her hand into Clint’s, saying nothing, but offering a small measure of comfort. Clint returned the gesture and tossed the last of the files onto the pyre, watching as they were swiftly consumed by the flames. A gust of wind swept through the clearing, making the flames flicker and dance. With a last glance at what remained of their old lives, Clint and Natasha walked away, their fingers still intertwined.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're halfway through. More than halfway through, actually.   
> What do you guys think? I'd love to know your opinions on this fic. 
> 
> Also, are there any other ships (or maybe even just good friendships) that you guys would like me to try this for? It's been fun doing it for Clintasha, so I'd consider doing it for some other ships (preferably Marvel, but I might consider a ship from a different fandom if I knew it well.) Feel free to leave a suggestion in the comments.


	53. Earth

The rain poured down, soaking through Clint’s clothing and plastering his hair to his head. He trudged along the bank of the Seine dejectedly, the muddy earth clinging to his boots. The image of Natasha falling backwards into the dark waters was imprinted behind his eyelids.

_Take the shot._

Clint had hesitated, knowing he might hit her if he fired.

_Take the goddamn shot Barton!_

At the last second, their target had shifted. The bullet had hit Natasha - Clint wasn’t sure where - and she had fallen backwards into the Seine. She had taken their target with her, handcuffed together as they were.

Clint looked up as he stumbled on a branch. A few meters down the path, a dark, limp shape was lying on the bank. Even from a distance, he recognized Natasha’s fiery red hair.

“Tasha!” Clint yelled, running towards her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The extended version of this chapter will be posted sometime today or tomorrow.


	54. Air

Clint drew the arrow back until the tip of his middle finger was nearly touching the corner of his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he released the arrow, letting it fly through the turbulent air. It landed on the roof of an office building and slid backward until the tip caught on the roof’s edge.

“Hold on.” Clint called over his shoulder.

Natasha grabbed onto Clint’s bow with one hand, a gun in the other. Clicking a button on his bow, Clint leapt out of the helicopter, wrapping one arm around Natasha before grabbing the bow. As they cleared the helicopter, it exploded behind them, the blast propelling them forward.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm thinking I will do this prompt set again for a different pairing and I'm looking for suggestions. If you have a pairing you'd like to see me do this for, leave it in the comments.
> 
> ~thedemonkingawakes


	55. Spiritus

Clint’s breath ghosted across Natasha’s neck, his breathing deep and even as he slept. Natasha lay awake, her thoughts racing far too much to let her fall asleep. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Natasha slipped out from under Clint’s arm and walked out onto the small balcony. She breathed in the cool night air, listening to the sounds of New York City.

“I love Clint Barton.”

The words felt right in her mouth. As the breeze carried them away from her, she felt Clint come up behind her.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing.”

“Then come back to bed.” Clint said, smiling sweetly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spiritus is Latin for breath.


	56. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit late. Between my busy schedule and the site being down for part of yesterday, I wasn't able to post it on time.

Natasha was woken by a gentle touch on the shoulder.

“Hey.” Natasha said sleepily.

“Good morning.” Clint said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He set a tray down on Natasha’s lap. “I made breakfast.” He smiled sheepishly.

Some of Natasha’s anger over last night’s fight faded as she took in Clint’s sheepish smile and the delicious breakfast he had made. She took a bite, savoring the flavor.

“I’m sorry. I know your past is a touchy subject, and I shouldn’t have pried. It’s just, I’m worried about you. Ever since you got back from Russia, you’ve been different, distracted.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have pried.” Natasha paused for a moment, taking a sip of her green tea. “It’s sweet that you’re worried though. And you’re right, I haven’t been myself since I got back. Being back in Russia, in the Red Room, it brought up a lot of unpleasant memories.”

She smiled and gave Clint a brief hug, letting him know that they were good.


	57. Lunch

Natasha lay down on the edge of the roof and handed Clint a sandwich.

“You didn’t make this, did you?” Clint asked cautiously.

“Clint, even I can’t ruin peanut butter and jelly.” Natasha replied, taking a bite of her own sandwich.

Clint took a bite of the sandwich. In his free hand, he held a pair of binoculars, looking across the street at their target’s office. “What time is it?”

“It’s sometime after noon.”

"Thanks for the lunch then." Clint said.

"Do you want me to take over surveillance yet?"

"Not yet. I'm good for a while longer."

Natasha settled into a more comfortable position.

"You don't have to stay. I can text you when I'm ready to switch."

"I don't mind." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Besides, this way we can spend a bit of time alone together."

 

 


	58. Dinner

Clint tiredly pushed himself into a sitting position on the hospital bed. From her cot in the corner, Natasha stirred, standing up sleepily and taking a sip of her tea. One of the nurses knocked on the door, pushing it open and placing a tray of food on Clint's lap board. Once the nurse left, Clint looked at Natasha, a frown on his face.

“Come on Tasha. Can’t we go out and get something good for dinner? We could go to the burger place or get some pizza in town.”

“Clint, you just got out of surgery, where they removed a bullet from your shoulder. You have to stay here, at least for the rest of the day.”

Clint sighed. “You’re no fun.”

Natasha glared at him. With another sigh, Clint grabbed his spoon and started eating his soup.

 

 


	59. Food

The edible contents of Clint and Natasha’s safe house in Paris.

Two packages of beef jerky.

A dozen granola bars, assorted flavors.

Three cans of chicken noodle soup.

One small can of chicken broth.

Fifteen packages of Ramen noodles, chicken and beef flavors.

One pack of Oreos, mint.

One pack of Oreos, golden.

Two packs of gum, wintermint.

One pack of dried banana chips.

One package of dried apple crisps.

One package of dried strawberry crisps.

Two packs of M&Ms, one regular, one peanut.

A jar of honey.

A lone snack bar.

Two packages of whole almonds, lightly salted.

  



	60. Drink

Most people assumed, given her Russian heritage, that Natasha’s favorite drink was vodka. She liked vodka well enough, but her favorite drink was definitely wine. The rich, fruity flavors burst against her tongue, some light and some less so. She could tell the difference between all sorts of wines, a skill that came in handy occasionally when she was undercover.   
Clint preferred beer to wine (or vodka). It was the drink of common people, of the circus folk he used to go to bars with after a good performance. Beer reminded Clint of the circus, and of simpler times, times before he joined Shield.


	61. Winter

      The cold winter air swirled around Natasha as she trudged through the deep snow, a bag of groceries in either hand. Reaching their cabin, Natasha knocked on the door with her foot. Clint opened it, grabbing one of the grocery bags from her hands. Natasha pushed past him into the warm cabin and set the grocery bag down on the table. Snow coated her red hair and clung to the edges of her thick coat.

     “Too cold for you?” Clint chuckled as Natasha walked over to stand by the fire.

      Natasha shook her head. “I’m Russian.”

     “And I’m American. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s freaking cold out. Now, how about I make a fresh pot of coffee?”

 

 


	62. Spring

Clint looked up from his book as Natasha slipped into the room, a bunch of flowers held loosely in one hand.

“Your garden is blooming.” Natasha said, handing Clint the flowers.

Clint smiled. “Good. This place could use a bit of brightening up.”

Natasha sat down on the couch with a sigh. “Do you think Hydra is still looking for us?”

Clint shrugged. He set down his book and scooted closer to Natasha. With a smirk, she reached over him and grabbed his book, leaning against Clint’s shoulder as she flipped through it.

“Jason Bourne. I didn’t know you were a fan of spy novels.”

“I’m not. It was just the only thing left in this house that wasn’t a romance.”

Natasha shrugged. “Romances aren’t so bad.”

 

 


	63. Summer

The sand was hot beneath Natasha’s feet as she raced along the beach. Clint was only a few steps behind her; she could feel his breath hot on her neck. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, slipping under the collar of her shirt and rolling down her back.

Natasha stumbled on the shifting sands. The momentary decrease in speed was all Clint needed to catch up to her. He tackled her, sending them both sprawling on the ground. The hot sun beat down on them as Clint rolled over, laughing. Natasha punched his shoulder playfully as she scrambled to her feet.

“I’m still going to beat you to the pier.”

 

 


	64. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hints/implied Huntingbird

Natasha lay down on the roof beside Bobbi.

“He didn’t see you did he?” Bobbi asked, not looking at Natasha.

Natasha scoffed. “Of course not.” She scooted forward until she could see Clint clearly. “Ready.”

Bobbi nodded once. As one, the two of them stood up and flipped off the low roof, landing in the leaf pile Clint had been raking for the last half hour. Clint chuckled as the leaves sprayed out in all directions.

Bobbi leaned back against the tree as Clint stood up and kissed Natasha, leaves sticking out of his hair in all directions. A strong hand grasped her arm and she turned to see Hunter lounging against the tree beside her.

“Nice to see you again Bobbi.”

Bobbi smiled as she tripped Hunter into the leaf pile. “Always a pleasure, Hunter.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm switching the day of the week this gets posted on to Saturday. With summer coming, it is going to work better for me.


	65. Passing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm absolutely terrible at updating on time. Anyway, here is one chapter, and there will be another posted later.

“You ready for this?” Clint asked, glancing over at his partner.

Natasha nodded tersely.

“You’re going to do great, you know. You’ve passed every test.” Clint lowered his voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but the badge at the end of this obstacle course, it has your name on it.” He grinned. “Go show ‘em what you’re made of.”

A smile ghosted across Natasha’s face as Clint retreated to the outside ring of the obstacle course. She stretched, sizing up the parkour course in front of her. Somewhere behind her, a whistle sounded. Natasha sprung forward, throwing herself into the course as the sounded faded from the air. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Clint watching her, a grin on his face. Natasha grinned back as she flew towards the end of the course.

 

 


	66. Rain

The rain poured down, soaking through Natasha’s dress and plastering Clint’s dress shirt to his broad shoulders.

“C’mon, Tasha, just a little bit farther. The safehouse is only a couple of blocks away.” Clint pleaded. “As soon as we get inside, you can rest.” He slowed his speed to match Natasha’s.

Natasha stumbled and fell. Clint caught her before she hit the ground. He pulled his hand away from her shoulder, looking down at it. In the dim light, he could see the blood coating his hand.

“You were shot.”

Natasha nodded tiredly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Clint asked.

“Didn’t want you to worry.” Natasha replied, her words slurring.

Clint scooped Natasha up in his arms and stood up. “I always worry about you.” He replied as he took off running, Natasha cradled tightly in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt list:  
> 1\. Beginnings.  
> 2\. Middles.  
> 3\. Ends.  
> 4\. Insides.  
> 5\. Outsides.  
> 6\. Hours.  
> 7.Days.  
> 8.Weeks.  
> 9\. Months.  
> 10\. Years.  
> 11\. Red.  
> 12\. Orange.  
> 13\. Yellow.  
> 14\. Green.  
> 15\. Blue.  
> 16\. Purple.  
> 17\. Brown.  
> 18\. Black.  
> 19\. White.  
> 20\. Colourless.  
> 21\. Friends.  
> 22\. Enemies.  
> 23\. Lovers.  
> 24\. Family.  
> 25\. Strangers.  
> 26\. Teammates.  
> 27\. Parents.  
> 28\. Children.  
> 29\. Birth.  
> 30\. Death.  
> 31\. Sunrise.  
> 32\. Sunset.  
> 33\. Too Much.  
> 34\. Not Enough.  
> 35\. Sixth Sense.  
> 36\. Smell.  
> 37\. Hearing.  
> 38\. Touch.  
> 39\. Taste.  
> 40\. Sight.  
> 41\. Shapes.  
> 42\. Triangle.  
> 43\. Square.  
> 44\. Circle.  
> 45\. Moon.  
> 46\. Star.  
> 47\. Heart.  
> 48\. Diamond.  
> 49\. Club.  
> 50\. Spade.  
> 51\. Water.  
> 52\. Fire.  
> 53\. Earth.  
> 54\. Air.  
> 55\. Spirit.  
> 56\. Breakfast.  
> 57\. Lunch.  
> 58\. Dinner.  
> 59\. Food.  
> 60\. Drink.  
> 61\. Winter.  
> 62\. Spring.  
> 63\. Summer.  
> 64\. Fall.  
> 65\. Passing.  
> 66\. Rain.  
> 67\. Snow.  
> 68\. Lightening.  
> 69\. Thunder.  
> 70\. Storm.  
> 71\. Broken.  
> 72\. Fixed.  
> 73\. Light.  
> 74\. Dark.  
> 75\. Shade.  
> 76\. Who?  
> 77\. What?  
> 78\. Where?  
> 79\. When?  
> 80\. Why?  
> 81\. How?  
> 82\. If.  
> 83\. And.  
> 84\. He.  
> 85\. She.  
> 86\. Choices.  
> 87\. Life.  
> 88\. School.  
> 89\. Work.  
> 90\. Home.  
> 91\. Birthday.  
> 92\. Christmas.  
> 93\. Thanksgiving.  
> 94\. Independence.  
> 95\. New Year.  
> 96\. Writer's Choice  
> 97\. Writer's Choice  
> 98\. Writer's Choice  
> 99\. Writer's Choice  
> 100\. Writer's Choice.


End file.
